Echenlos 2

While citizens shield themselves behind
A gate and death does nightly somersaults and
The faces that crowd the balcony in
Lustful windows that look at each other one by one and the
Electric circus of muses and semi-muses of symphonies
That sweat the neighborhood and the amalgam of
times–fuzzy stories of nihilistic clouds
That seek a place still stand firm and without
Fear the uncontrolled minds that cross
Through the middle of the street of lies. Expressing yourself in
Unfaithful ground, your being will emerge, your voice
Expanding like a cancer in a sick city
Saturated with “laws and god” spitting out a mind
Filthy that doesn't let us pass we will never surrender
Never… not even to jailers, nor to puppeteers,
Those who control the brain thread and the puppets
dance to the tune of the great idiots of the
Song rising against the order of an
Old age that does not wish to hear or see you, and you shouting
That you are you and not him, the one who speaks and thinks, the one who
Goes and fights, the one who does not want to be like him and the
Puppets dance to the tune of the great idiots of
The song of the stupid music of
Radio “whatever the billboard or the idol
Of today says…” remembering moments, when we
Ventured into the dangers of running
Carelessly down the street… expatriates, with the
Seal of our foreheads, just for the sake of
Running carelessly down the street… and against the
tide. Looking at each other, puzzled in
Silence, with that unconfessable something that tightens,
With the flabby and mohatra grimace of the
Kursiles romances… I only know that I will keep looking at you
From my window, and I will keep walking the
Street, maybe not so carelessly anymore…
Thinking of you and the enemy. I can only
Tell you that the pact we made will never
Be broken and we will continue to walk the
Sewers until everything… until everything ends.

The islet of the mediocre was set on fire with
Blood of servile lackeys while their masters
Faked tears. The hypocrites
Headlined daily newspapers calling for faith, the
Hypocritical politicians asked for “patience” and
The official culture plunged the plebs into eternal
Limbo of drowsiness preventing them from thinking,
because thinking leads to reflection and from
Reflection to truth there can be a very short
distance, needless to say then that the
Truth is subversive. But in the midst of all this
A cloud of black and riveted locusts descended upon one of the tripanosomitas
Streets with bodies of metal, loneliness and heart, they fell
Like a cold and dark sheet of ice
Making silence turn into mute
Noise… the lonely outcasts… never
Were so companionably alone. And
There was a carnival where the grasshoppers, rats and
Weasels laughed and mocked the
Conditionings, flying over the omnipotence of
Shopkeepers and culture peddlers,
Knowing how to say no to the system… and it was known to say no
No!, no!, no!… and keep that
No but among the grasshoppers of no there were
Infiltrated some lice of “I don't know” and cockroaches
Of “yes”, those who said they would sing with
Their own voices ended up singing with
Others' voices… screwed! Vassals of
Complacency! Putting their asses to cheap seductions,
to any glimmer of false glory.
Others stopped throwing their underground burps
To become ridiculous clowns of the system…
With them the dream of emancipated musicians
Seems to go to shit… in the face of all this
I keep saying no! No, no, no… and the
today is full of fascist shit, of
Red vomits, of fatalistic skeptics
–Like me– and of candid or drooling ones who still
Believe that happiness, justice and freedom
Will come to be born with new songs
–Even if already sung–, with new proposals –even if
Already proposed–, with a new order… only that
Freedom was never the daughter of order… I just keep
Saying no no, no, no…

Forced to die in a forcing / forced to watch
Just for watching forced to pray go to the temple and
Be silent forced to drink from his unhappiness forced
To think only of his ideal / forced to bury the
Hope to love burying the last of his
Illusion since thinking is a criminal offense
Without being able to choose something personal / without being
Able to assume our individuality only obedience is allowed
And be silent, bow to the rapacious state
Forcing us to hear his jokes and his blah blah
Blah forced to laugh at his comedy forcing
Us to see what his morality forces us to live in
The midst of all his hypocrisy… no, no, no, and
Keep that no throw them out throw them out